Femme Fatale (Black Rose Book 2) (5 page)

Melanie

I’m standing at the counter making our lunches. The cooler full of drinks and the food I’ve made will provide us with snacks so my husband and I can do surveillance without interruption.

“Are you ready?” I ask him, anxious and excited to get started.

“That depends… did you do as I asked and make arrangements to take some time off work?”

“Yes, I called early this morning.”

“I would never ask you to quit work, but you know you don’t need the money.”

“That’s not why I work; I took this job to give back.”

“Ah yes, you’re a good Samaritan at heart. It’s one of the things I love about you.”

“Yes, I have so many endearing qualities,” I tease as I take a moment to eye the man standing before me. He is just as handsome now as he was the day I married him. His copper colored hair, falling in tousled disarray around his face, and the tan he keeps year round combine to make him the perfect recipe for a playboy; thankfully, he is anything but.

Today, he’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt with hiking boots. I’m dressed similarly in a comfortable ensemble. Neither of us cares to sit in a car all day long in dress clothes.

“Grab the cooler and let’s go. My first stakeout! I have to say I am so excited!”

“Well, this isn’t the most thrilling part of the job, but it’s a necessary evil.”

“I’m sure I’ll do fine. I have you to talk to.”

“Take your kindle because you may find yourself wanting to read. Stakeouts can be boring.”

“How could I ever be bored when I’m with you?”

We make our way out the door and to the SUV we’ll be taking. My husband has various cars for various facets of his work; he even has a van for abductions. I can’t help but be curious about what secrets we will uncover about the life of our unsuspecting target.

Melanie

I eye my partner in crime as we pull up in front of the suburban home of the woman who has basically gotten rich by accusing Richard Roundtree of sexual harassment. I’m a bit confused on why we’re here instead of out somewhere staking out the leader of the pack.

“What are we doing here?”

“This is the house of the woman who received the settlement.”

“I thought we were going to spy on Richard Roundtree? He’s our target,” I interject, as if giving my statement validity.

“Finding out whether or not her accusations were even true will help us ensure we aren’t killing an innocent man.”

We watch as a woman in a bright yellow dress all but prances out the door and over to her black Mercedes. By all appearances, it looks as if our subject is living quite well due to her recent windfall. Now, the only question is if the man she accused is actually guilty. Everything in me screams gold digger when I look at her, and I don’t understand why I feel so let down. Why am I feeling disappointed at the thought of Richard Roundtree being innocent? I know the reason is because I want the bond that will develop by working together with my husband. Maybe he’s right about the shadows lurking in my soul. He’s the only person who has ever been able to make me see myself for who I really am. If he knew this about me, though, it makes me wonder why he waited all these years to reveal this vigilante, who’s been hiding in obscurity within me. Perhaps, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew the day would come when I’d be working with him to clean up the streets. I push the thoughts out of my head, just for the mere fact that my husband isn’t a man who can be figured out, not even by me. One thing is for sure; the agent who’s become intrigued with
Black Rose
certainly has his hands full. My husband is anything but an easy read.

The woman we’re watching chats on her phone like she doesn’t have a care in the world as she pulls out of her driveway, unaware she is being followed by a killer. She appears oblivious to everything around her, busy enjoying the benefits only the privileged are accustomed to. Once again, I find myself hoping she hasn’t wrongfully accused Richard Roundtree. If she has, all of this will be for naught. Is she a gold digger? Is she merely a woman who saw an opportunity for advancement and used Richard’s high profile life against him? She strikes me as the kind of woman who wouldn’t hesitate to go for the jugular of a man who could give her the prestige only money can achieve. I’m not quite sure what it is about her that’s giving me that opinion, but I learned a long time ago to not question my instincts. Working in a hospital has taught me a hell of a lot about people in general. No matter what her motives were, by the time my husband and I get done stalking her and studying her habits, I’ll know more about the woman than she knows about herself. Even my husband acknowledges women pick up on things that men don’t see.

The Killer

Standing over her body, with nothing but the pale moonlight falling over her visage as she sleeps in the hospital bed, is an aphrodisiac like none other. Knowing I have been able to sneak into her room without anyone’s knowledge feeds the darkness in me. I reach down, taking the pillow that’s been thrown to the side. Her head is resting on just the mattress alone, and she has failed to lay the adjustable hospital bed down flat. I wonder why. Perhaps the narcotics running through the IV in her arm have put her to sleep before she could lower it. I reach over with my gloved hand and press the button to release the allotted amount of drug into her system. I don’t want her waking up as I smother her. I want it to appear as if she peacefully died in her sleep, not killed at the hands of a murderer. Though she is well aware of my kidnapping escapades, she has no idea she’s pissed off a very prolific serial killer.

My fingers clench tightly around the pillow, and I begin the process of taking away her breath, killing off the only witness to my crimes.

“Hey, what are you doing in here?!”

The voice behind me startles me, but I make no movement. I lay the pillow down, grateful for my large frame that hid my intentions from the nurse who entered the room unaware.

“I’m sorry.”

I turn and smile at the nurse with short brown hair, who’s eyeing me with suspicion. I continue speaking in an effort to win her over with the same charm I use on my unsuspecting TV viewers.

“My flight arrived late, and I just couldn’t wait to see how the patient is doing.”

“Are you family? How do you know her?”

“I host a local TV program, and I had her on as a guest. She volunteers for a local soup kitchen.”

“Well… like I was saying, it’s way past visiting hours, so you need to go.”

Though I may have thwarted her initial skepticism, I can tell by her stance that she means business. Her hand is on her hip, and she’s shooting me an authoritative gaze that screams how seriously she takes her nursing responsibilities. There will be no overriding or bending of the hospital rules on her watch.

“I’ll come back at a better time, and thank you for your patience and understanding. Oh, and could you please keep my visit a secret just between us? I’d really like to surprise her when I visit the next time.”

I slide past her as she moves to check her patient’s vitals, and I notice she’s also inspecting the various IVs and tubes in her body. I have to fight the smile pulling at the corners of my mouth. There is no need to check any of that. If I want to kill her—and I do—I’ll choke the bitch, slice her throat, or smother her ass with a pillow like I was doing before I was so rudely interrupted. In fact, if this nosey bitch hadn’t wandering in when she did, the only person who could testify against me would be dead by now. There will be another opportunity, and when it comes, I will take full advantage of it, making sure I’m successful in finishing the bitch off. My efforts tonight won’t go completely unrewarded, though. I think, perhaps, I’ve found my next victim in the nosey nurse. I’m very angry she interrupted me, and making me angry is a very unwise thing to do.