Hunting Vixen (Vigilante Vixen Book 1) by S.A. Michelle

Author:S.A. Michelle [Michelle, S.A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-12-14T16:00:00+00:00

SIXTEEN

Leigh

I don’t have time to go home and put my full Vixen outfit on, but I always keep a wig hidden and attached to the underside of my Ducati’s seat, so I am prepared to change my appearance. I speed to the Broussard’s as fast as I can, taking some curves so fast I almost lay my bike down. A street from their place, I pull my Ducati over and get my cell out. I shoot a text to the Vixen chat, letting Mike or Donnie know that I’m going to need help moving some dead weight. If I had my Range Rover, I wouldn’t need the guy’s help until later.

Sliding on the hoodie I always keep in my saddlebag over my head, I fix my black wig into place, pocketing my special cocktail and take a deep breath, locking my emotions away. When I was fifteen, I took my first life when I was nearly assaulted. A man had trapped me in an alley on my way home from babysitting. He slammed me against the brick wall and tried fondling me. Using the training that I learned from Ethan, I tried to get away, but he kept coming after me. I pulled a knife from my boot and defended myself. Next thing I remember is standing over a dead body covered in blood splatter and not knowing where else to go. I had shown up at Ethan’s door in full panic mode. After calming me, he helped me clean up, and we made sure there was no evidence of me at the scene. I never felt guilty for taking that man’s life, and while Ethan had worked for the CIA, he didn’t think I deserved to go to jail. Instead, he had given me statistics, how one in every six women in the US are sexually assaulted every year. That on average one in every four women is in a domestic violence relationship. The idea of ‘Vixen’ was born that night. She calmed something in me. I didn’t know it then but I know it now, I had found a way to unleash my monster. Ethan upped my training, teaching me about DNA and cyber security, and even more grueling lessons to turn my skills from defensive to offensive. Every time I killed, it satiated my inner monster, at least for a little while, and I could live a relatively normal life.

Creeping through the shadows cast by the Broussard home, I hear yelling. After hearing glass shatter, I kick through the front door without warning. Martha is in a ball on the floor, bleeding, while Clarence stands over her. He jumps when his front door opens and turns his sweaty face my way. I knew he was a big guy from his pictures, but the man has to weigh at least three hundred pounds and is six-two. His eyes are bloodshot and his face is purple from screaming.

“Who the fuck are you?” he slurs. His voice is as unsteady as he is.

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