Authors: Dwayne S. Joseph

Eye for an Eye (16 page)

BOOK: Eye for an Eye

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Aida was fucking up and she knew it.

She was losing her focus, getting caught up physically and emotionally. For the past few days she'd been talking to herself. Telling herself to get a grip, to remain centered. She had a job to do. Set Griffin up, collect her pay, and move on to the next ungrateful bastard she'd be paid to ruin. It was a simple equation.

Unhappy wife + bastard of a husband =
mucho dinero.

All she had to do was stay in tunnel-vision mode and keep walking with her blinders on.

Griffin was just like the other men she'd fucked over. He was a liar, a cheat. So what if he was sexy as sin, with his wide upper torso, his well-developed arms and chest, a washboard stomach, and a damn near perfect dick? And so what if he knew how to use it in ways that gave her the chills? So what if his macho and arrogant personality was a complete turn-on for her? So what if she loved his style? So what if his eyes and sly smile gleamed with a hint of danger that she couldn't get enough of? So what if she found herself thinking about him and wondering what he was doing at that moment when she did? And so what if she couldn't help but wonder if he'd thought of being with her while he was with his wife? Or if he'd fucked his wife with her on his brain?

None of those questions and thoughts mattered. All that mattered was that Griffin was a disrespectful son-of-a-bitch who deserved what he had coming to him. Damn the great sex and the chemistry that seemed to exist between them.

All week long that's what Aida had said to herself.

All week long she'd insisted that the calls she'd made to him had been for the job. For the setup. For the big payday.

And all week long she'd known that had been utter and complete bullshit.

Aida was falling. Hellâshe had fallen for Griffin Steele, and she didn't quite know how to handle it.

She needed to talk to someone, but there was no one. If she told Marlene, she was sure she'd be pulled off of the job, and she didn't want that. She damn sure couldn't confide in Lisette, because she had no doubt she'd lose not only the best money she'd ever make, but she'd also lose the only person who knew and understood just who she was. Someone she considered family. For that reason, there was only one option: She would have to figure this out on her own. She didn't know how, but one way or another, she would.

At least she hoped.

Aida sighed as she caressed Griffin's well-defined chest. They were in the back seat of his Escalade again. She'd just orgasmed sitting on top of him. He'd just finished bucking and releasing into his condom inside of her.

“What's wrong, sexy?” Griffin asked, his index finger trailing along the side of her breast.

Aida shook her head. “Nothing.”

“That's a lie.”

“How do you know?”

Griffin lifted the corner of his mouth into a sly smirk. “I can tell by your eyes.”

“You know me so well, huh?”

Griffin gave her a bad-boy smile and said, “I'm willing to bet I know you better than most.”

Aida held his gaze momentarily and then looked through the tinted window as someone walked by, heading to his car, oblivious to their presence. She didn't know why, but she felt as though there'd been something more to his comment.

Griffin smiled again. “So tell me, sexy, what was up with the sigh?”

Aida shook her head and dropped the corners of her mouth. “Nothing really.”

“Mami,” Griffin said in a don't-even-try-it tone.

Aida looked at him for another lingering second. Somewhere, Vivian Steele was anxiously waiting for this coming Saturday to arrive. Vivian Steele; she was completely not his type. Unambitious, dependent, soft, attractive yet unassuming at the same time, looked like she didn't enjoy having sex. She was no challenge, which was obviously why the hell Griffin was unfaithful.

Aida couldn't help but wonder what the hell he'd seen in her. He hadn't married her for her money. He hadn't married her for her power or status. So what the hell had he married her for? What
brujeria
(witchcraft) had she performed to snatch him up? She wanted to ask him why her, but of course, she couldn't.

She said, “I was just wondering how a man like you isn't taken already.” She watched him intently, wanting to see if her question put him on edge at all.

Griffin never batted an eyelash or took a pause as he answered, “No one has ever had enough strength to take me.”

Aida nodded. “I see.”

Griffin flashed a devious smile again. “But, mami, I have to be real . . . You are one strong-ass woman.”

Bumps rose along Aida's arms. She nodded again and tried to contain her smile. “Is that right?”

Griffin cupped his hand behind her head and pulled her toward him. His lips centimeters away from hers, he said, “That's definitely the case,” and then pulled her lips to his. He kissed her hard, drove his tongue into her mouth, which she'd eagerly opened to allow entrance.

Aida moaned.

So what?
she thought.
So what if his kiss is as smooth and hot as he is?
She pulled back. “You're a strong man yourself,” she said.

Griffin flashed his sexy smile again. “I try to hit the gym on a regular basis.”

Aida laughed.

Griffin did too, then said, “I like you, Aida.”

“That's good to know. For a minute I was wondering if it was only my tits and ass you liked.”

Griffin cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, without question, I definitely like the tits and ass, but I also like the personality to go along with them.”

Aida blushed.

“I feel a real connection with you,” he continued. “You get me in a way that no one else has ever gotten me.”

Aida said, “You get me too. And there's only ever been one other person who has.”

“I hope he's a distant memory.”

“She. And she's a very good friend of mine.”

“Well, hopefully I get to meet her someday.”

Aida smiled. “You never know.”

Griffin kissed her deeply again for a few seconds. This time he pulled back. “What are you doing this Saturday?”

Aida looked at him. She knew why he was asking. Vivian had set the trap and told him about her going away to visit the sister-in-law he couldn't tolerate. As she knew he would, he'd said he couldn't go, leaving him the opportunity to be alone for the weekend. She'd been hired for this weekend and it bothered her slightly, because it was a reminder that she was on the job to help Vivian save her marriage, because she couldn't be without him.

She said, “I have no plans yet. Why?”

“I have to go away for a few days for business. I'll be back early Saturday morning. If you don't mind keeping that night free, I'd like to take you out to dinner.”

Aida kept her lips tight for a moment.

The time had come.

She said, “We can do dinner, but I want a home-cooked meal.”

Griffin looked at her with a curious stare. “Home-cooked?”

“Yes. I want you to cook me a fancy dinner. An authentic Puerto Rican meal.”

“Are you serious?”

Aida nodded. “Very.”

“What if I can't cook?”

“Something tells me you have skills in the kitchen, too.”

Griffin laughed. “I might have some skills.”

“Then it's set. I'll come over around eight-thirty.”

Griffin shook his head. “Any particular meal in mind?”

Aida shrugged. “Surprise me.”

“Damn. Guess I better break out the cookbook.”

“Guess you better.”

“And you're sure you don't want this authentic meal at an authentic Puerto Rican restaurant? Because I know of some good ones.”

Aida shook her head. “No restaurant. I want my authenticity from
el restaurante de Griffin
.”

Griffin laughed. “I really love that Spanish shit.”

Aida gave him a smile laced with seduction. “You cook me that meal and you'll hear a lot of Spanish shit for dessert.”

Griffin clenched his jaw and flared his nostrils. As he did, his manhood jumped.

Aida looked down at it and licked her lips. “Looks like someone likes the sound of that.”

Griffin clenched his jaws again. “He and I both.”

“Hmmmm.”

“You up for round two?” he asked.

Aida smiled. “The real question is . . . could you hang for a round three?”

Griffin nodded. “I have four more condoms in my pack.”

Aida growled. “Aye, papi.”

Seconds later round two began, and as it did, one word ran through Aida's mind.

Trouble.

She was in for it and she didn't want to do a damn thing to stop it from coming.

It's almost time!

My day of retribution. My day of payback.

Oh, so soon, slut. So soon you're going to get everything you deserve and more.

I take a breath and hold it in. I savor it. Pretend it's her last fucking breath. I can't wait until that moment comes. I can't wait until I watch it escape from her lungs and her eyes close for good.

Bitch. I have you so rattled, I love it. Ms. “I am God's gift to the fucking world.”

Bitch! Whore! Cunt! Coward!

Waiting is so frustrating. So goddamned painful. But it's oh-so-necessary. I can't wait to see the look on your face when your glass bubble shatters
. I can't wait to look at you eye to eye and tell you all about how I planned everything out. Your death won't bring my Kyra back to me, but I'm still going to enjoy every second of the agony you're going to endure.

I look to my right. That prick Myles is mumbling again. I'd taken him as he walked to his car after leaving Starbucks. He'd been preoccupied, fishing for something in his laptop case. He'd never even seen or heard me coming up behind him. I tasered his ass, and after he crumbled to the ground like a wet rag doll, I dragged him to my car, duct taped his wrists and ankles, and managed to get him into the back seat of my car before I went to watch that bitch get her surprise visit.

It's his time.

“Not yet,” I say. “I have to stick to the plan.”

It's his fucking time!

I shake my head, but don't speak this time. Then I leave the bathroom and head into the bedroom, where I have Myles laying face up on a bed, rope tied around his wrists and ankles and fastened to the bed's four posts.

I walk up to him and look down at him as he looks up at me. His eyes are red and wide with fear. “You want to know who the hell I am, don't you? You want to know why you're here?”

He mumbles something that sounds like a yes.

I stare at him and scowl. “I don't know how the hell she put up with you,” I say. I sit on the bed beside him. “I couldn't have done it. I wouldn't have been able to stomach being next to you.”

I spit on him.

“You're a fucking pussy,” I say.

He squirms and mumbles again through the duct tape fastened over his mouth.

I lean down toward him a little. “What was that?”

He mumbles again.

“I can't understand what you're trying to say. You'll have to speak a little clearer.” I laugh and then lean toward him more and grab the corner of the tape. “Will this help? Do you want me to take this off?” I tug on the tape.

He nods and says something that sounds like please.

I remove a razor from my pocket. I hold it up for him to see as I unfold it. His eyes grow wider. His fright makes me smile. It makes me think of the fear I'm going to see in Lisette's eyes.

I press the tip of the blade hard against his cheek and drag it down at an angle. He moans as I watch his blood rise up from the two-inch line I've traced.

“I'll take it off,” I say. “But if I even think the sound of your voice is too loud, I'll cut your tongue out and feed it to you. Do you understand?”

He nods slowly as his eyes tear up.

I smile again. “Good boy.”

I pull on the tape. Slowly. I want patches of his moustache and goatee to come off on the other side of the tape.

“Now, remember,” I say, pressing the blade against the corner of his mouth, “watch that volume.”

Myles looks down at the blade and then at me. “Wh . . . who are you?” he asks, his voice low and trembling. “Why are you doing this?”

I glare at him. Fear has his forehead covered with beads of sweat. Fear has him taking short, quick breaths.

“Why am I doing this?”

He nods. “Y . . . yes. Why? I don't know you.”

“Oh, that's not true, Myles. You do know me.”

He shakes his head. “No. We've never met.”

“You know me, you pussy,” I insist again.

He shakes his head.

“Kyra,” I say.

“Kyra?”

“You were married to her, you prick.”

He shakes his head. “I . . . I don't understand.”

“She was my woman. My completion. You were with her, so that means that you were with me, too.”

“Your . . . your woman?” His eyebrows slam together. “I don't understand . . .”

“It was all for your money, you piece of shit! That's all we married you for. But then you presented us with that fucking prenuptial agreement on our wedding day. You asshole! You spineless son of-a-bitch!”

My hands begin to shake as I think back to that day. Back to the moment when Kyra sent me a text telling me about the prenuptial agreement he wanted her to sign.

“Five million dollars for every five years of marriage. You asshole!”

My blood is boiling. My heart racing.

I take the blade and lay it against his Adam's apple.

It's his time!

I want to drag it across. I want to watch it break the skin and watch as blood oozes out. I want to watch his skin grow pale as his life seeps away.

“After all of the time we'd put in with you, we had no choice but to sign it and go through with the fucking wedding.”

I press the blade into his skin. Just a little more pressure and it would be over for him.

“I wanted to kill you so that we could collect on our money, but Kyra . . .” I pause and close my eyes tightly for a moment. Talking about her this much is so hard, so agonizing.

It's his time!

I take a breath and then continue. “She convinced me to not do it. She would have been the primary suspect, and if that happened, it would have been too hard to get our money. I didn't want to listen, but she was right. We couldn't kill you. So we had to find another way out.”

I pause and glare at him. I'm on fire. On the verge of losing it.

It's his fucking time!

I spit in his face again.

“Lisette was supposed to have been that way out, but the bitch said no. And then she told you about what we were trying to do. And you, thinking that you were a fucking man, tried to kick us out. But we came up with another solution. We got Charles Goodell to do business with you and because of all of the extra income you gained by your new relationship with him, your fucking prenup was negated. We were six months away from collecting our money when . . .”

I stop talking. I don't want to say what I'm about to say. It's a reality that torments me day in and day out.

I press the knife harder against his flesh. Tears fall from my eyes. I can't hold them back. I shake my head.

I was going to wait to kill him. I wanted that bitch to watch him die. But it's too hard. The plan can be altered a little bit. He can die now. There's someone else that bitch can watch die.

I tighten my grip around the blade's handle and stare down at Myles.

He watches me with terrified eyes. “Please,” he whispers. “Please . . . don't. I beg you . . .”

I look at him for a long second. It is his fucking time.

I drag the blade across his throat. His eyes open wider as his blood flows from the four-inch gash I make. He tries to speak, but can only gasp and gurgle. He thrashes, trying to break free from the ropes as though something he could do would prevent the inevitable.

“An eye for an eye,” I say.

I stand up and step away from the bed and blood. I watch him suffer. I watch him deal with the fact that in another few seconds, he's going to be dead.

“An eye for a fucking eye.”

He thrashes again and then goes still. The light is fading in his eyes. The rise and fall of his chest is getting slower. He looks at me as his last breath slips from his lips.

I look back at him for a long moment and then move away, and go back to the bathroom. I turn on the hot water and wash his blood off of the blade. I want it to be clean for her turn.

I turn off the water when the last of his blood washes down the drain.
I told you it was his time
.

I nod. “And soon it will be hers.”

BOOK: Eye for an Eye

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