Prologue
Charlene was impressed with herself. This was going even better than she expected. She kept the smug self-satisfaction hidden; not a bit of it displayed on her face, as she delivered another fake laugh, massaging the dolt's ego with a light touch. He blossomed under the fake praise from this gorgeous young woman, standing just around five foot in height, and petite in frame but curvaceous.
"Yeah, what can I say? I'm a natural comedian, and this stuff just brings it out of me. Want another bump?" This was said by James, a shirtless man with a beer belly, while rolling the hundred he produced from his pocket, punctuating the question with an aggressive snort, delivering a blast of the powder straight into his nasal passage.
"Sure! I really appreciate it. It always gets me so... excited!" She delivered the line with a practiced ease, the implication of more intimate times easy to work with. She resented this idiot, but making him think he had a chance was proving quite lucrative. She'd stay until he ran out of coke, then she'd beg off, leaving the idiot with his blue balls and confusion.
She was a veteran at this, and no one could resist her charms. She flipped her black hair over her shoulder, making sure James got an ample look at her cleavage as she snorted the line. Her nose crinkled, and her bright blue eyes watered, the familiar tingle in the back of her throat a welcome sensation. She smiled, genuinely this time, but knew he wouldn't know the difference.
Chapter 1
Charlene stared in horror at the growing pool of blood, expanding across the linoleum from the still form before her. She looked down at her right hand, vaguely registering that the candlestick base she clutched was going to be used to send her to prison. It was covered in his blood, and her prints too.
It had all happened so fast. The scene replayed itself in her mind, searching frantically for the proof that she hadn't done this, that it was an accident. She'd waited until he'd gone to the restroom, before tucking the hundred dollar bill in her bra. She gathered up her belongings, and was already pulling up an app to call a car, having ridden with James from the bar she'd met him at.
She hadn't heard his steps as he approached from behind. He was so damn quiet! Idiot! She cursed him momentarily, before the scene continued in her mind.
His hand on her shoulder startled her. It was with a gasp that she spun, her hand seemingly having a mind of its own; surely she hadn't grabbed the pewter stand on her own? But nevertheless, she saw the metal impacting his temple, the concern in his eyes momentarily blossoming into surprise before rolling back into his head.
She checked his pulse. There wasn't one. James was quite dead. She paced back and forth quite a lot. She was frantic, cycling through excuses and stories. Nothing seemed likely to work, and she briefly considered just fleeing. She looked around, taking in the large amounts of surfaces she may have inadvertently touched. No, she couldn't leave.
Taking a breath to steady herself, she pulled up her phone, before scrolling to a contact saved as 'Scam Likely.' Her thumb hovered over the icon, a slight tremor before she finally pressed it. She held the phone up to her ear in time to hear the click of the call being answered.
Silence from the other end. She gulped, finding her throat suddenly dry as the desert.
"It's me, Charlene. I... I need your help. I've made a mistake." She swallowed down a sob as she delivered her line.
"Where are you?" came the first sound from the other end, a smooth man's voice. She told him the address, and thanked him. Her pitiful "You'll help me, right?" garnered a laugh, before he disconnected.
Chapter 2
She jumped when he knocked on the door forty minutes later. He was faster than she'd expected. Her anxiety already through the roof, she checked the peephole before disengaging the deadbolt. Yeah, that was Vince. Even facing the other way, she recognized his shaved head. She took a moment to prepare the right expression as she went to open the door for him, showing a face of pure panic and helplessness.
He stepped past her when she opened the door, without saying a word. She started to speak, before a look from him killed the words in her mouth. He held a briefcase in his left hand. He brought a finger up to his lips, and she nodded.
He closed the door and locked the deadbolt. She noticed his apparel; the designer jeans, leather shoes, and black turtleneck. She also noticed the black leather gloves, and some part of her brain wished she'd had the same sense of fashion, as it could've avoided a lot of problems.
When she turned to look at him again, she had to stifle a scream. He had produced a pistol, a suppressor visibly attached. He held the pistol upright, at the ready. He motioned for her to sit. She looked at him confused; even in the current situation, the idea of sitting on the floor offended her.
His gaze was enough to settle the issue for her, at least temporarily. She meekly took a seat, the motion revealing her generous breasts to his gaze, as she'd decided to dress provocatively for her hunt at the bar. His footsteps quickly grew inaudible.
She sat in silent anticipation for what seemed like hours, but was in reality less than ten minutes. She startled slightly as she realized he was behind her, his course having taken him through James's house quite thoroughly.
