DECEIT (B723) by Hazel Grace (ebook reader for surface pro .TXT) 📕

even try to barge in there like a man in love would do.” I slowly begin to shake my head back and forth. Taunting him and the things he didn’t do, not that he may have been able to save her, but his actions got us to this point.

I can feel it.

“Stay the fuck away from the kids,” I growl out, fists balled at my sides. “Or I’ll rip your damn arms off, and you won’t be holding any in the near future.”

“They’re fucking mine,” he carps out, taking a dangerous step in my direction. “And I will get custody of them. So save your next threat. I’ll bury your little buddy in legal fees because someone is tampering with evidence.”

“Or someone just won’t accept that his girlfriend screwed another dude behind your back.”

“Fuck you and get the hell out.” He points in the way of the door, but I don’t listen to the gesture.

Instead, I grip his wrist and twist, getting him to drop the water and bow down in pain.

He swings with his free hand and connects with my thigh, but it only causes me to put more pressure on his hand, bending it back to which he howls.

“You’re fucking dead,” he yells out through his teeth.

I lean over, not giving a shit if he lunges up and knocks into my chin with the back of his skull. It’ll only add onto more of my wanting to eliminate him, right here, right now and I’ll explain to the boys later. “Not if I get to you first.”

The front door bangs open, hitting something glass and sending it crashing to the floor. It hints that someone obviously came in with some force and it’s not help for me.

Pivoting, I’m met with a burly dude and a mustache. His dark eyes narrow as my arm cocks back to have an introduction with his face.

He stumbles, revealing the other two men that have come in to kick me out.

“I want him dead,” Alexander commands haughty behind me, which only gets me to thrust my elbow back to connect with his nose.

He lets out a yelp, and I’m ramming into one guy’s stomach with my shoulder while the other has his hands on my shirt to go for the ride.

We crash into a wall, allowing me the opportunity to get one good punch on the dude’s cheek before I’m hurled backward by one of his cronies.

I’m quick to right myself, catching five knuckles to the jaw before my fist flies into the same dude’s face, sending him away when the other two begin to lunge for me.

I’m able to dodge one, but the other gets a right hand across my face. I seize his suit then thrust my forehead into his, not feeling the pain because of the surge of adrenaline coursing through my body.

And because I’ve done it over a million times.

The click of a hammer fills the space and I locate the taller one rushing me with it.

Dumbass.

He could’ve shot me and got this over with.

I swing at his kidneys. My knee comes up next, hearing a crunch of a bone-breaking before I’m pried away by my waist.

My heel comes up to slam into the guy’s shin, but he doesn’t let go, so I whip around and out of his grasp, cold-cocking him with my clenched hand on the way before swinging with my left.

Things were going fine.

I had everything in the bag.

But the blackness that promptly surrounds me…that came out of nowhere.

I shoot all of them—with tranquilizers.

With the ruckus all solely focused on each other, I took the chance of peeking around the closet door and crawling out. Thankfully, a couch was the perfect cover, and my aim is spectacular.

I took Alexander out first because I’m a petty ass bitch. Then Bishop because he’s so observant, and if men began dropping like flies around him, he’d be looking around for why.

With a call to Mills and maybe thirty minutes before they all start waking up, we were able to pull Bishop out. We threw him in a maid cart, took the elevator, then the employee back exit, and out to Mills’s backseat he went. I’m not built to help carry his two hundred plus ass, and Mills isn’t Superman either, no matter what he says.

And I may or may not have caressed Bishop’s scruff along his face, called him an idiot for showing up here, and gave him a chaste kiss to his lips before my best friend arrived.

While waiting for Mills, I bugged Alexander’s home, then I noticed the phone poking out of Alexander's suit jacket after I kicked him in the thigh.

It wasn't the iPhone that was always attached to his ass but a burner phone. I'm sure to bug that one too.

Coming back to hide in the closet was too risky now and, with his men who would wake up pissed off, my main focus was making sure that Bishop made it home okay.

And offing Alexander in a peaceful slumber wasn’t my idea of a kill anyway. I wanted him to see my face—alive and somewhat well—when he took his last breath.

“What story am I supposed to give now?” Mills asks me over the phone as he drives home, and I do the same. “Did he get hit when you hit him?”

Shit, that would’ve been pretty genius. 

“Unfortunately, no,” I reply. “We could always say he was stabbed with something when you busted in. Hopefully, he won’t spend too much time thinking about it.”

Mills scoffs. “And how did I know he was there?”

“Mills,” I chide. “Are you telling me you’ve never come up with a make-believe story in your life?”

“My grandma taught me never to lie. And I don’t like doing it to people that are close to me.”

AKA like you. 

“I know.” I rub my temple with my free hand. “We’re almost done.”

“That court case is in two weeks. Did you figure out how you were going to get into the lab?”

Let me catch you up