Bernie watched Dominic Sheridan kiss the bitch he was with not once, but twice. And the way he’d stared at her, all smoldering passion and hot lust.
It was so perfect. So fucking perfect. Killing Dominic had been the plan all along but that was too easy. Too…linear. Not enough suffering considering all the harm Sheridan had done. Not enough torture or pain.
Bernie had planned to put something nasty in the punch. Not enough to kill anyone, probably, but enough to have them shitting themselves as they all rushed for the restroom at once.
It would have been so much fun.
Unfortunately, they had servers watching each table, and the opportunity had not presented itself. Someone was always there, making conversation and stuffing their faces.
Bernie did not want to be remembered hanging around the food and drink areas if people started to get sick, so the idea was abandoned.
Security had been too tight to risk bringing in a gun.
Dominic and the bitch and some other guy had gone off to the library but then the president had arrived and there was only so much ass-licking Bernie could watch without vomiting. Leaving seemed like the smart thing to do. Losing Robin had been a blow. Smashing Sheridan’s windows had eased the sharpness of the anger but slicing that bitch, inch by perfect inch, would go a lot further to evening out the score.
But now wasn’t the time. Instead, it was time to retreat and regroup, leave the area until they dropped their guards again. There was a rush in the thought of that. A sweet, hot rush in the thought of slowly sending Sheridan over the edge into madness to where Bernie lived with only grief as a companion.